


That I May Cease To Be

by delusion_al



Series: Voltron: Hogwarts Mystery [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Care of Magical Creatures, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Gryffindor Keith (Voltron), Hufflepuff Hunk (Voltron), Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (Voltron)-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, One Shot, Thestrals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26875189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusion_al/pseuds/delusion_al
Summary: When they encounter a herd of Thestrals, creatures revealed only to those who have seen death, Hunk learns more about Keith than he bargained for.
Relationships: Hunk & Keith (Voltron), Hunk & Lance (Voltron), Hunk/Keith (Voltron), Keith & Lance (Voltron)
Series: Voltron: Hogwarts Mystery [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822171
Comments: 5
Kudos: 33





	That I May Cease To Be

**1984**

Care of Magical Creatures just wasn’t the same without Lance.

He’d only been excused from classes for the day thanks to the dislocated elbow he sustained during yesterday’s practice match against Gryffindor but it already felt like it had a been a week since Hunk had last seen him. Keith, his rival Seeker, had escaped largely unscathed save for a few missing fingernails, and walked somewhere up ahead with his hand tightly bandaged.

Hunk hadn’t watched the match, having been confined to detention in Snape’s potions’ closet, but he’d heard what had happened from Ravenclaw’s captain, Allura: Lance had fallen off his broom, Keith had managed to catch him in the midst of fumbling for the Snitch in mid-air, and they’d both crashed onto the pitch. Though Lance’s debut as Seeker hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, at least he hadn’t been seriously hurt.

Hunk resolved to take some pies up to the Ravenclaw common room later, along with all the notes he’d have to catch up on.

They were outside for this lesson, Professor Kettleburn leading them across the pastures bordering the Forbidden Forest on the first clear autumn day since the term had begun.

Hunk was so glad he lived in a world where there were Octobers. The world looked to be covered in a cobbler crust of brown sugar and cinnamon, from the leaves falling from the trees to the swathe of gold and red robes trudging down the slope towards the Gamekeeper’s hut. Their class consisted mainly of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, of course, with a smattering of soft-hearted Slytherins and Ravenclaws here and there, most of whom were hardly as focused on the trek as they were on their own conversations.

“Have you gotten your costume sorted yet?” someone asked and, right, Hunk had forgotten that Halloween was fast approaching.

“Not yet. What are you dressing up as?”

“I was thinking of going as a telephone. They make such a ghastly noise when they’re summoning people! I don’t know how the Muggles deal with it.”

Hunk grinned. His mum had been saving up for a digital phone for a while now, one of those big blocks with the silicon-gate PCM codec-filter chips that she could stick on the dining room table. He doubted any of his classmates would understand or appreciate the intricacies of Muggle machinery even if they tried. For all the exemplary magic of wizards, they could be incredibly dull creatures. Technologically speaking, anyway.

“Are you going to dress up?” Shay asked from where she was walking beside him, wedged between Hunk and her twin brother, Rax.

“I don’t think so. A costume would probably get in the way of cooking. How about you?”

“Oh, of course,” she exclaimed. “I forgot you were going to spend time helping the elves in the kitchen for the big feast.”

Hunk had always enjoyed cooking. One of the downsides of catered boarding at Hogwarts was just that – he couldn’t cook for himself. While some of the house-elves had been unwelcoming to the idea of culinary help, others were appreciative and enjoyed the treats he made for them enough to let him come and go as he pleased.

“I was thinking of dressing up as a rubber duck myself,” Shay continued. “Partly because I wanted to represent Hufflepuff. But Rax here wants us to match – he has been reading this Muggle series by a certain Professor Seuss and has suggested that we dress as Things One and Two.”

“You do not have to talk about me as though I am not right here,” her brother grumbled. “And he is a doctor, not a professor.”

“That’s sounds like a great idea!” Hunk said, stifling a laugh at the thought of Shay and Rax replicating some of his favourite childhood characters.

“Now we just have to decide which of us is Thing One and which of us is Thing Two,” Shay mused as though continued winding down the stone steps that led off the castle grounds.

Pumpkin fruits lined the path, all bloated and gorgeous orange, and Hunk’s mind immediately went to cauldrons of hot spiced cider and shortbread fingers with caramel and fudge dipping sauces and all manners of spooky treats. Ladies’ fingers, butter cookies the shape of gnarled cookies with almond fingernails and red food colouring on the stump end. Meringue ghosts and cups of graveyard pudding – his own signature blend of dark chocolate layered with cookie crumbs – strewn with gummy worms and topped with a cookie tombstone.

Chocolate tarantulas, with mini cupcake bodies and legs made out of liquorice whips, sitting on spun candy floss nets. Chocolate peanut butter and pumpkin spice Pop-Tarts, shaped into bats and candy corn with orange, yellow and white icing. And, if he could find a stash of lady apples in Hogsmeade, mini caramel apples!

The sheer thought of all the food he could make made his mouth water and his stomach rumble.

“Tally ho!” Kettleburn suddenly yelled, which his students now realised was a greeting after weeks of watching him barrel into their classroom. He was waving his arms over his head at a monstrous figure emerging from its hut. It stood on the border of Hogwarts’ grounds and the Forbidden Forest, at the bottom of the slope – just a lowly stone house in which the Gamekeeper lived.

Most knew him as a gigantic lumbering fool who lurked about the Forbidden Forest collecting grubs to live off, but Hunk knew him better as Hagrid, the kind soul who nursed orphaned animals back to health and jumped at his own shadow.

“‘Ark a’ee!” Hagrid responded.

Rax groaned. “What could this oaf be joining us for?”

“You should not be so rude,” Shay muttered, but it seemed many of their classmates shared her brother’s sentiment. Hunk did not.

“Hello, Hagrid,” he said warmly. “Are you supervising today’s lesson?”

“Part of it,” Kettleburn explained. “No-one knows the Forbidden Forest like Hagrid here does. I’m sure you all remember what we’re trying to accomplish, today?”

 _An observational study._ There was only so much theory involves in a practical subject like Care of Magical Creatures. Though recitation of facts was useful, it couldn’t beat hands-on fieldwork. Hunk found himself missing Lance even more – if he was the brains of the two, Lance was the brawn.

“After today, we’ll have completed the unit on faeries,” Kettleburn went on. “And I’ll expect a full-page report by the end of next week on any one of the faeries included in your books.”

This information was met with a unanimous moan. Hagrid laughed.

“That’s nothin’,” he chuckled. “Back in my day, we’d have to write at least two sides o’ parchment an’ more. Ye’re too soft on them, Perfessor Kettleburn, sir.”

“Just how old is Hagrid, anyway?” Shay whispered. Hunk shrugged. He didn’t seem to have any grey hairs yet.

“Maybe I am,” Kettleburn mused and Hunk sorely hoped he wasn’t going to increase the workload. “Either way, you all better be careful in the forest from here on out. I don’t want to take anybody to the Infirmary.”

“Why would anybody need to go to the Infirmary?” Rax asked loudly. “We are only observing sprites.”

“Faeries may be small,” Hagrid agreed. “But they’re nasty little buggers when they want to be.”

“Which is why you’ll be working in pairs,” Kettleburn added. “I’ve also prepared bags of salt for you to carry in your pockets. Faeries can’t abide salt, so that should stop them from getting too close.”

“Sir,” Hunk chimed. “There’s an odd number of us because Lance isn’t here. Could I work in a three with Rax and Shay?”

“Ah, of course, McClain’s absence.” The Professor’s one good eye swept over the horde of students gathered around him and he frowned. “I believe you’re mistaken, Garrett – there seems to be an even number…”

A familiar voice then piped up. “It’s Bill. He’s late.”

It belonged to Keith and, right, Hunk hadn’t noticed that his usual partner wasn’t present either. He could have sworn he’d spotted him earlier…

“Of course,” Kettleburn drawled. “The Weasley boy – that explains it. My, my, he has terrible timing, doesn’t he? Anyway, I guess that solves one problem. Kogane and Garrett – you two can work together for the time being, hm?”

 _Oh boy._ Hunk considered objecting for one moment, but quickly quelled the ridiculous idea. He would not stoop to Lance’s stupid level of rivalries and disdain for the Gryffindor, even if it meant spending the rest of the hour in relative awkwardness. He hadn’t spoken to Keith since that time last week with the Boggart and – urgh, he really didn’t want to remind himself of how _horrible_ that all had been.

After he’d fled the room in which Lance and Pidge had been training, they’d run smack into each other. Keith’s mouth had run amuck about Matthew Holt, ex-student and convict lurking about the castle, they’d encountered a Boggart-turned-Death Eater and the rest was history. The fiasco still raised a lot of questions – like how and why Keith thought that Holt had snuck into the castle? Why was his Boggart a Death Eater? – but Hunk figured he’d rather not know.

Keith was staring at him now from across the semi-circle and he consciously avoided eye contact. Not that he wanted the guy to think he held the same prejudices against him as Lance, but still – it was difficult to like someone whose default expression was a (rather frightening) glower.

“Now that that’s sorted,” Kettleburn started. “Hagrid here will lead us to the glade. Stick close, everyone, and don’t forget the salt!”

* * *

The Forbidden Forest didn’t seem all that dangerous. The deeper they delved the more Hunk had to wonder why it was ‘Forbidden’ in the first place.

It was when the class split up that he understood.

A cold wind was blowing from the north and it made the trees rustle like living things. All that was warm, and orange had turned a grizzly shade of grey and the pines hung so thick that he could barely hear Hagrid lumbering about from a few meters over anymore. Hunk wasn’t a coward – he _wasn’t_ – but the way the forest changed around him was uncanny.

Beside him, Keith coughed into his palm and he gulped down a shriek. He was so quiet that it was easy to forget that he was there. Not like Lance. Lance would’ve been chatting his ear off.

He was a bit of a weirdo as well. Constantly looking off into the trees, all wistful, as though he could see something that wasn’t really there.

“So, uh,” the Huffepuff started, voice trailing into an echo that the conifers reflected back at him. “You got any plans for Halloween?”

Keith shrugged. “Not really. Might go home for the anniversary.”

“What anniversary?”

The Gryffindor quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know – the anniversary of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s death? It’s kind of a big deal in my house.”

Hunk felt like an idiot. “Oh, right. Of course. I – uh, I forgot about that, considering…well, I’m muggle-born.”

He teetered off again after that. Keith’s face scrunched up, as though he were trying to remain impassive but were mulling something over in his head. God, why was this so _awkward?_

“Muggles don’t know about The Boy Who Lived?”

“No, not really. I only heard about it when I came to Hogwarts.”

They both fell silent, unsure what more to say. All that broke the silence was the crunch of their feet on dead leaves.

Keith cleared his throat. “What do you do for Halloween then?”

“I usually go trick-or-treating with my younger siblings,” Hunk replied, glad to be talking.

“What’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“That…thing you do. Tricking?”

“Trick-or-treating?”

“Aye. What’s that?”

Hunk stopped dead in his tracks. They were nearing a glade – he could tell from the thinning trees – but nothing about their surroundings had made him pause. Keith continued for a few paces then glanced over his shoulder, frowning.

“You don’t know what trick-or-treating is,” Hunk said, deadpan.

“No. Should I?”

Bloody _hell_ , wizards sure were sheltered. “Yes! You should! It’s the coolest thing ever. You dress up in scary costumes and go from house to house saying trick-or-treat, and the people in the house can either trick you or give you a treat. Most of them give you candy though.”

Keith stood there for a second, staring at him, speechless. Hunk suddenly felt very self-conscious. Enough that he started to ramble.

“My mum, dad, brother and sister and me all dressed up as the Jackson Five one time because there were too many of us to do the Fantastic Four.”

“The Jackson Five?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they scary?”

“What? No. They’re a band. You know – _ABC, easy as one two three, or simple as Do-Re-Mi. ABC, one two three, baby, you and me, girl!_ ”

Aaaaaand, wow, he really was an _idiot_. Singing along to a Jackson Five song that Keith had clearly never heard of before. He was staring at him like he literally had just sprouted a second head. Which would have been less embarrassing that trying to explain was he was currently doing.

“That,” Keith muttered after a few beats of tense silence, “doesn’t sound that scary.”

“No,” Hunk choked, slapping himself in the forehead with his hand. He really wished Lance were here so he could get away with doing and saying dumb shit. Hell, Lance would’ve sung along with him. “You don’t always have to dress as something scary, okay? It’s just – a stupid muggle tradition. I wouldn’t expect a pure-blood to get it.”

“I’m not a pure-blood,” Keith interjected hotly but Hunk wasn’t listening anymore. He was far more interested in something he’d just spotted over the Gryffindor’s shoulder, sprouting in the clearing behind him.

“Marasmius oreades!”

“What?”

He set off at a brisk jog, pulling his notebook from his pocket as he went. There, in the centre of a clearing of lush green grass undisturbed by the falling leaves of the trees that surrounded it, lay a perfect circle of mushrooms.

“Wow,” he breathed, squatting down outside the ring to take notes. “I never thought I’d see one in the flesh.”

Keith gasped behind him. “What are you _doing!?_ Get away from there!”

Hunk threw a quizzical glance over his shoulder to where the Gryffindor was lingering in the shade of the trees. “Huh?”

“Didn’t you pay attention to anything Kettleburn said today? That’s a faerie ring! Going near one is dangerous!”

“Relax. That’s only superstition. I’m only in danger if I go _inside_ the circle, not if I take notes from outside.”

“Take notes?” Keith sputtered. “This isn’t Herbology! We’re supposed to be looking for faeries, not mushrooms!”

“And this,” Hunk clipped, pointing to the fungi with the end of his pencil, “is a faerie ring. So I’d say we’re in the right place.”

He heard Keith huff again and the rustle of his cloak as he presumably crossed his arms, but didn’t deign to look around again, too focused on sketching the fronds. The fungi must’ve been mycorrhizal, mooching off the surrounding trees in some sort of symbiotic relationship – ah, if only he could see the mycelium underneath the soil to get a better reading.

“I don’t think this,” Keith murmured, and he’d moved closer now, his wand unsheathed and salt unpacked. He was scrunching his nose in disdain at the little brown-headed shrooms that Hunk was documenting. “What the hell are these anyway?”

“Marasmius oreades,” Hunk repeated, barely glancing up from his work.

“Is that a spell?”

He chuckled. “No. It’s a species. An _edible_ species, I might add. They’re surprisingly sweet thanks to the presence of trehalose, a type of sugar that allows it to resist death by desiccation. It’s also great from unpolluting soil.”

“Uh huh.”

“You weren’t listening at all, were you?”

“You lost me at ‘edible.’”

Well, for all his complaining, it seemed that Lance had more in common with Keith than he would’ve liked – they were both oblivious to the wonders of nature. Hunk started using his pencil to measure the height and width of the cap – one centimetre in diameter. Pretty small.

“Don’t touch it!” Keith cried in alarm when Hunk’s thumb got too close.

“Calm down!” he retorted. “Touching it is fine – in fact, I’m going to eat it.”

“You’re going to _what?_ ”

“Look – if this is what I think it is, then it’ll be perfect for the feast! I can’t let an opportunity like this go to waste!”

“Are you insane? You can’t disturb a faerie ring! That’ll bring bad luck.”

“You really believe in that superstition?”

“It’s not superstition,” Keith growled. “It’s common knowledge. Common _magical_ knowledge. Something you should know by now regardless of whether you’re a muggle-born!”

“I mean,” Hunk mused aloud, practically ignoring his partner’s protests. “It _might_ be clitocybe rivulosa. In which case, eating it would kill me.”

Keith gurgled as though he’d choked on his own spit.

“But it’s a risk I’m willing to take!” Hunk continued declaratively.

Without waiting for the Gryffindor to stop him, he grasped the stem firmly between his thumb and forefinger and pulled. It snapped without a hitch.

“Oh my god,” Keith groaned. “We’re going to die. Miserably.”

Hunk raised the shroom to his lips and gobbled it down. A plethora of tastes and textures: soft, salty, sweet, like honey and marmite. He could’ve sworn he’d broken out into a clammy sweat at the concept. _It’s…it’s…heavenly._

His eyes rolled back into his head. Before he passed out, he swore he could hear tinkling faerie-like laughter.

* * *

“Hunk! _Hunk!_ ”

Something was dragging him backwards, haphazardly, with one arm.

“ **Rennervate**.”

The Reviving Spell. But it wouldn’t work because he wasn’t unconscious anymore.

“Bollocks.”

He realised the voice belonged to Keith, but his eyes were clouded so he couldn’t see. Something was tickling the back of his throat and he hacked. The more he coughed, the more it moved, as though it were alive.

“ **Anapneo!** ”

The blockage instantly cleared in a fit of miniature arms and legs, and Hunk practically gagged on the taste of sweet mushroom and what felt like an overgrown insect crawling out of his mouth. He groaned and felt Keith’s grip on his wrist go slack, heard him swear and the rustle of his salt packet.

In front of him, sitting on his chest from where he’d just vomited it up, a tiny faerie whose wings were clumped together with mucus. It was snarling at him, pointed teeth bared. _Oh god, I ate that?_

“Get back!” Keith ordered, emptying the contents of his salt packet onto Hunk’s uniform. The sprite hissed, recoiling as though burnt, scuttling off his chest and down his legs, spider-like. Hunk shrieked at the sensation and kicked. It went sprawling into the undergrowth. And, just like that, disappeared.

Nobody moved. Hunk could hear Keith breathing heavily, his bandaged hand holding his wand like a lifeline. The more his sight cleared, the more he saw that he had dragged him backwards, out of the glade. Damn, he was stronger than he looked. Hunk was a hefty boy.

“What was that?” he rasped.

“I don’t know,” Keith answered, still staring at the bracken where it had last been seen. “A very angry faerie by the looks of it, since you just ate its house.” He turned to him, eyes blazing. “What’s _wrong_ with you?”

Hunk flashed a small smile, forcing down the queasiness that came from almost swallowing a live sprite. At least it had tasted good. “Sorry.”

“I thought you were supposed to be clever. You could have died! And you’re definitely going to have some weird side-effects from ingesting a faerie.”

“Yeah,” Hunk muttered as he hauled himself to his feet. “I reckon that’s already happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think I’m starting to hallucinate.”

Keith groaned. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“There’s these scaly horses all around us that weren’t here before. They’re kind of scary-looking.”

The Gryffindor paused. “Oh. They’re just Thestrals – wait – you can _see_ them now?”

“You mean they’re _real!?_ ”

It had all been well and good when he’d just thought they were figments of his apparently very disturbed imagination, but knowing they were real brought a whole host of fear. He wrenched his eyes away from the beast they were currently focused on – a winged black creature, reminiscent of a skeletal horse – and fixed Keith with a horrified glare.

He was rubbing the back of his neck, now bashful. “Aye. They pull the school carriages from the train station up to the castle.”

“I thought they pulled themselves,” Hunk sputtered. “With magic.”

Keith shook his head. “No-one else can see them. Except Hagrid, I think. I don’t know why you suddenly can.”

One of the horses – _Thestrals_ – nickered as it trotted closer. Instead of the rough lips of a horse, it had a beak, sharpened presumably for cutting flesh. Hunk gulped and stepped a little closer to Keith, ducking behind him like a frightened child. Which he was. Very much. Bravery be damned.

“It’ll be something to do with the faerie slime,” he said, trying not to think about the feel of the little creature on his tongue. “Oh, god, Keith, please get it away from me. It looks so freaky.”

“Relax. They’re harmless.”

To his absolute disgust, he reached up to touch its _face_. All hollowed out and cold-looking. Hunk stumbled backwards, right into the path of another, which shoved its nostrils close to his shoulder and huffed. He nearly screamed.

“N-n-n-nice Thestral,” he murmured as it drank in his scent.

Keith was laughing. “Stop being such a baby. It’s just saying ‘hello.’”

There was a whole herd of them, flitting between the trees. Every now and again, one would take flight, spreading out large bat-like wings whose span was probably five times Hunk’s height. They were _enormous_. Surprisingly, their skin was soft to touch and supple, which he discovered from the gelding rubbings its neck about his face as it played with his scarf.

Okay. Okay. Hunk could get used to this. He wasn’t going to scream. Absolutely not. That would be embarrassing. And he wasn’t going to vomit, no way. Even though he wasn’t a huge fan of the thing’s beaky mouth, its eyes seemed sincere. All deep and black and ethereal. It had unwound his scarf now and promptly backed up to whisk it away at a pace he’d never be able to match.

“Hey!” he called. “I need that! It’s cold.”

It snickered back at him, a full-fledged whinny.

“He likes you,” Keith said.

“Oh, great.” He paused, reluctant to follow it any deeper into the forest. “So, these Thestrals – they’re all over the grounds but no-one can see them?”

“Pretty much.”

“How come you can see them?”

He didn’t answer for a while, instead watching as the great black beast he’d been patting turned tail and walked with uncharacteristic poise back to the herd. Hunk wondered if he even wanted to know the answer.

“Only those who’ve seen death can see them.”

The wind picked up. The young Thestral who’d stolen Hunk’s scarf trotted back to loop it around his neck, then cantered off into the trees to take flight.

“Or,” Keith continued, “Those who’ve eaten a live faerie.” The wind died again and Hunk was very thankful for his scarf, clutching it close to his neck. “Come on. We should probably get you to the Infirmary before you start breaking out in hives or something.”

* * *

The effects of the faerie slime weren’t permanent, thankfully. Hunk didn’t think he’d be able to stomach seeing giant horses of death flying around. He still had to sit in the infirmary while Madame Pomfrey took saliva samples and made him swill his mouth out with something that tasted suspiciously like vodka.

“Eating faeries,” she’d muttered angrily. “Is that what kids are doing nowadays?”

“It was actually a mushroom,” Hunk had corrected. He’d shut up after she’d shot him a look like daggers.

Lance had already been discharged to spend time in his room. He’d get a kick out of this story.

But Keith hadn’t yet left.

“You don’t have to hang around, you know,” Hunk offered, half out of guilt and half out of embarrassment. He wasn’t so keen on the Gryffindor watching as the old matron swabbed his mouth with her wand for the third time that afternoon. “If you have better things to do.”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t mind. I’d rather know that you weren’t going to die of fae poisoning before I head back to class.”

The quiet that lapsed between them wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been in the forest earlier, but still made Hunk want to pull his hair out. The tick of the grand clock was deafening by comparison, a perfect metronome to the questions gnawing his mind.

“What did you mean when you said that only those who’ve seen death can see the Thestrals?”

Keith grimaced. He immediately regretted asking. Made to apologise, but the Gryffindor held up his hand.

“I figured you’d want to know,” he said quietly. “It refers to those who’ve seen someone die.”

A pin-drop pause and a cold sweat.

“You’ve seen someone die?”

Hunk felt guilty for now knowing. How was it possible? Keith was only a third-year, like him – too young to witness such things. He didn’t feel close enough to offer comfort. Not that he’d accept it anyway. He didn’t seem like the type.

“My father,” Keith confirmed.

“I’m sorry.” An apology was the only thing he could offer. _How_ had he been carrying this around with him all this time? Hunk couldn’t imagine if his parents died – even his younger brother and sister. He wouldn’t have been able to cope.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Hunk muttered. “But that must’ve been really hard. I’m sorry. That you had to go through that.”

Keith was giving him this look – an intense one, that made him want to curl up into a ball or even giggle to dispel the tension. “You’re a nice person.”

He flushed. _What an odd thing to say._ Then, held up his scarf, bright yellow and vaguely mottled from where the Thestral had bitten it. “It’s why I’m in Hufflepuff.”

Keith sniffed. “Not sure why you hang out with McClain. He’s a bit of a dick.”

“He’s not!” Hunk retorted, a little too loudly. “He’s nice too. He’s just…difficult, sometimes. He’s got a lot going on.”

“Don’t we all.”

It was a lame excuse, especially to someone who’d just admitted to witnessing their own father’s death. He still had so many questions – but figured they were best left unasked. He didn’t want to pry.

“Alright, Garret,” Madame Pomfrey announced as she came bustling around the corner. “You’re free to go. _Don’t_ go eating any more strange fauna lest you want Professor Snape to fix you up an antidote.”

He blanched. _Anything_ would be better than that. Maybe even death by faerie mushroom. “Thank you. And, trust me, I won’t.”

She gave him a lollipop for the trouble – not that he felt he deserved it, but he was hardly going to complain about free food.

“What class do you have next?” Keith asked.

“Transfiguration.”

“Me, too. Wanna walk together?”

“Yeah!”

They might’ve split up upon reaching the classroom, Keith naturally gravitating to more of the red-hued students bunched outdoors and wondering where he’d gotten to, with Hunk partnering up with the ever-caring and ever-worrisome Shay.

Yet, later that night, he made not one, but two personalised batches of pie to deliver in their own colour-coded containers to the two highest towers in Hogwarts. The first he wrapped with blue ribbon and left in front of the bronze eagle-shaped knocker; and the second he padded with a sheet of crimson red and delivered to the Fat Lady for safe-keeping until a certain Gryffindor Seeker started to feel peckish.


End file.
